Maison Rouge
by Worryingly Innocent
Summary: AU. Alone and pregnant, eighteen-year-old Emma Swan stumbles upon the Maison Rouge, an old vaudeville theatre, where she is welcomed into the little family that make the cabaret their home: Granny, the manager and Ruby, bartender extraordinaire; conjuror Jefferson and his assistant Alice. But she is most intrigued by the gruff MC, Gold, and the woman who melted his frozen heart...
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: **AU. Scared, alone and pregnant, eighteen-year-old Emma Swan stumbles into Storybrooke, to the steps of the _Maison Rouge_, an old vaudeville theatre. She is quickly welcomed into the family of eccentric oddballs who make the cabaret their home and she learns their stories: Stoical Granny, the manager and her granddaughter Ruby, bartender extraordinaire; conjuror Jefferson and his glamorous assistant, Alice. But she is most intrigued by Gold and Belle, the gruff MC and the wardrobe mistress who melted his frozen heart…

**Pairings:** Rumbelle, Mad Hatter/Alice, hint of Emma/Bae pre-romance, perhaps more as I go on.

**Note:** As with all my AU's, this is set in the UK.

**Warning: There will be, in later chapters, mentions of past domestic abuse, male and female victims.**

* * *

**Maison Rouge**

**Chapter One**

The bus had dropped her off at the edge of the town, because the driver had taken pity on her and let her ride to the next stop for free after she'd fallen asleep on the back seat and travelled twenty miles past where her ticket could take her. He'd been a nice guy, chatting to her as they sped through the night. Now, Emma felt horribly alone. And cold. And hungry. And since it had begun to rain, distinctly wet. She needed to find somewhere to sit and warm up, and eat, but it had gone midnight, and she doubted that Storybrooke, the sleepy little town she had alighted in, boasted any all-night fast food places. Emma tugged her thin jacket in a little closer around her and shivered in the autumn air before beginning to walk down the road towards the town. Maybe there'd be somewhere that she could spend the night before she started hitching to God-knows-where in the morning.

All the buildings were dark. Emma wasn't holding out much hope, until a light caught her eyes off the main street. She turned towards it instinctively, like a moth drawn to a flame.

The building was an old, Victorian one, large and foreboding. Moving closer, Emma read the sign in the driveway. _The Maison Rouge Theatre, home of traditional burlesque and vaudeville cabaret entertainment. _Emma's stomach twisted, and then grumbled with emptiness. Maybe they could help her? Burlesque was just a fancy word for stripping, wasn't it? Emma might not have many practical skills, but she could do that if pushed, which she was. Well, she could do it for the next few months, until she started to show. She pressed her hand over her abdomen unconsciously. Nowhere to go, no prospects, no hope, and a baby. Emma continued up the drive towards the theatre, looking up at the light in an open upstairs window that had attracted her attention. Soft voices could be heard coming from it.

"…I'm still reminded of the time Jeff's rabbits escaped and we had to spend four hours combing the auditorium for them. You'd think that three bright white rabbits would be easy to spot…"

Emma stepped up and tried the door. It was locked. The muted conversation above her seemed to lull.

"Did you hear something?" asked a female voice, the same one that had been talking about the escaped rabbits.

"It's just the wind, Rubes," someone replied. "You're paranoid."

"No, I swear, I heard someone trying to get in the main door."

"Well, Ruby's ears have rarely been wrong before," said another voice. "Quick, grab the shotgun, we've got intruders!"

"Jeff, don't be ridiculous."

At the word 'shotgun', Emma had begun creeping backwards down the drive away from the theatre as quietly as possible. Perhaps there was somewhere else in the town that she could stay for the night.

When the previously locked door opened with an ominous creak, she gave a muted squeak and attempted to hide behind something, but her tired, cold limbs refused to work and she stayed frozen like a rabbit in the headlights, looking at the woman who had opened the door.

She must have been in her seventies, but she had a little glint in her eyes behind her spectacles that belied a mind still young at heart. There was, Emma noted gratefully, no sign of a shotgun.

"Hello," the woman said. "Oh my poor dear, you must be frozen to the bone. Come in, out of the rain. Are you lost, love?"

"I, erm, I…" Emma didn't know what to say. "Yes," she finished feebly. "I saw the light, and then the sign, and I thought…"

"Oh dear, do come inside. It's a draughty old place, but at least it doesn't leak."

Emma stepped into the foyer of the theatre gratefully.

"Now, you come and have a cup of tea and we'll see if we can't get you back on the right track."

"I, erm…" Emma wished that she could think of something more intelligent to say. When she had come up to the door, she had expected anything but this kind, open hospitality. "Thank you," she said quickly, remembering her manners.

"It's no trouble, love. Now, where were you headed?"

"Nowhere," Emma admitted as the woman led her up the ornate central staircase. "I saw the lights and thought you might be able to help, and then I saw the sign, and I thought that maybe…"

The woman stopped halfway up the stairs and turned, her spirited eyes sad.

"You thought maybe you could earn a little here. This isn't a strip club, child, and it certainly isn't a brothel. It's a theatre, and we run it as such." She reached out and gave Emma's shoulder a friendly squeeze. "We all know a desperate soul when we see one," she said. "Perhaps we can't help you in the way you'd first thought, but maybe we can help in another way. You're among friends, child. You aren't the first person to have turned up on our doorstep in the dead of night seeking insalubrious employment. So we will help you, as much as we can. Now, let's get you upstairs and warmed up. What's your name?"

"Emma. Emma Swan."

"Well then, Emma Swan, you can call me Granny. Everyone does. How old are you, child?"

"Eighteen."

"And how far along are you?"

Emma's hand went back to her stomach, shocked. "How did you…"

"I've had three of my own, love, and six grandchildren. Believe me, I know." There was a twinkle in Granny's eyes as they continued to make their way up the staircase and she led the younger girl round into the bar area, the light of which Emma had seen from outside. A group of people – two men, three women – were gathered in one corner on a couple of moth-eaten sofas at one end of the bar by the open window.

"Ruby!" Granny called as they rounded the corner. "Tea! And make it hot! And open a new packet of biscuits as well." She turned back to Emma. "You look as if you could use them, love."

A girl, not all that much older than Emma herself, who had been sitting on the bar, hopped off it to rummage around for the necessary tea-making equipment.

"Everyone, this is Emma," said Granny. "Emma, this is everyone."

"Another stray, Mrs Lucas?" asked one of the men, the older of the two, with greying hair and a tired, worn face. The woman he had his arm around made a soft noise of disapproval without looking up from her book – "Rum, be nice" – but he continued to regard Emma with some degree of suspicion.

"You were a stray yourself, Mr Gold, at one time," Granny said sternly. "Do you have a problem with helping one of our own?"

Emma hung back as Granny tried to shepherd her further towards the others.

"It's all right," the older woman said. "We don't bite. Well, not much. Ignore Gold, we all do."

Gold raised an eyebrow in response.

"My theatre, Mrs Lucas."

"My business, Mr Gold."

The woman curled up next to Gold shook off his hold on her and came over to Emma.

"Pleased to meet you, Emma," she said. "I'm Belle. We'll help you out, don't fret. Here, let me take your jacket."

Belle peeled the sodden garment away from Emma's shoulders and Granny bustled back, wrapping her in a warm blanket and encouraging her to sit down on one of the sofas.

"This is my Ruby," Granny said as the girl bounded back from the bar, holding out a mug of tea and an unopened packet of chocolate biscuits with a grin. She gave a little wave.

"Welcome to Maison Rouge," she said. "You don't have to be mad to work here, but it helps. I run the bar," she added by way of explanation. "I was teaching myself how to do all the fancy cocktail shaking stuff, but Granny said I was spilling too much stock and made me give up."

Emma gave a weak smile. She hadn't thought that smiling would be very high on the agenda for a long time to come.

"Belle's our wardrobe mistress," Granny continued, and the little chestnut-haired woman waved from where she was carefully hanging Emma's jacket over the radiator. "Gold's our Master of Ceremonies, amongst other things."

Gold nodded his acknowledgement, never taking his wary eyes off her.

"And this is Jefferson and Alice."

The couple on the other sofa waved enthusiastically. Alice was bright and blonde and bubbly, and Jefferson was, although physically calmer, obviously just as mad.

"Jeff's a magician," Alice said proudly. "I'm his glamorous assistant."

That explained the escapee rabbits, then, Emma thought.

"Drink up," said Ruby, nudging her mug. "It'll be going cold."

Emma obediently took a sip, feeling it warm her from the inside out.

"Anyway, as I was saying," Jefferson began. "It wasn't my fault that Mary Margaret left the cage door open. They've got a spring in their step, my rabbits."

"And don't we know it," Gold muttered. Jefferson shot him a withering look.

Emma was content to stay on her sofa, watching the interplay between the six. Jefferson and Gold seemed to take turns at throwing veiled insults at each other, although neither really meant it, with Alice finding the whole thing hilarious and Granny playing referee. Ruby just observed, occasionally correcting a misremembered anecdote, and Belle seemed for all the world to be lost in her book, but knew exactly what to say at any given moment if her opinion was sought on something.

Finally, warm and slightly dryer, and full of chocolate biscuits, Emma trusted herself to speak to this ragtag group of friends into whose world she had been so unceremoniously pulled.

"So, where are the others?" she asked, wondering at the identity of the many people who had featured in their reminiscences but who did not appear to be present.

"They live elsewhere," Granny said. "They're good friends, but we're the family, the core."

"You actually live here? In the theatre?" Emma asked.

"Of course," said Jefferson. "We roost in the eaves like little birds."

"What he means," Ruby said, rolling her eyes on seeing Emma's worried expression, "is that the attics are converted into rooms. We live up there." She pointed to the ceiling. "Above the auditorium. There's no living room, though, so if we want to sit up and chat about the old times, we usurp the bar."

"Speaking of," Gold said as Belle gave a tremendous yawn, "I think we ought to be going up. Night all."

He reached round Belle and put a bookmark in between her pages. She smiled up at him before standing and giving a sleepy wave to the gathered party. "G'night."

Gold fished around under the sofa and pulled out a cane, which he leaned on to stand. "God, I hate these stairs," he muttered. "See you tomorrow."

His dark eyes gave Emma a final onceover, and the pair left them, disappearing round the corner of the bar and out of sight. Emma wondered at the notion 'opposites attract'. Belle, young and welcoming, and Gold, middle-aged and soured by life.

Ruby looked at her watch.

"It is late," she admitted. "We should probably all think about going to bed."

Granny nodded, and Jefferson and Alice left them with a reluctant goodnight. Alice came over and gave Emma a hug for good measure.

"Granny and Ruby'll see you right," she said. "Don't you fret."

Emma watched them round the corner, leaving her with just Granny and Ruby for company. She had to admit, she felt more comfortable with just the two of them, so open and unassuming.

"Come on," Ruby said brightly. "You can bunk with me. Ashley and Mary Margaret did when they first came too. Advantage of having a sofa in your room." She nodded round the corner of the bar. "The stairs are up here."

She led Emma round and through a door marked 'STAFF ONLY', with Granny making up the rear. The door opened onto a steep, narrow staircase that wound its way round into the attics of the theatre.

"The kitchen's through here," Ruby said, indicating the first door on the landing. "And the bathroom's at the other end of the corridor. Granny's in that room there, Belle and Gold are opposite her. Alice and Jeff are round the corner and up the stairs again. We're in here. Mind your head."

She pushed open the door opposite the kitchen and Emma stepped into a veritable treasure trove. The room was small, mainly being taken up with a double bed and a squashy sofa, but it was decorated beautifully, swathes of fabric draped from the rafters and posters of the theatre's previous productions from its heyday pasted over the sloped ceiling. The little room was illuminated with fairy lights. Once she'd finished gawping at the decor, Emma opened the backpack that contained all her worldly goods and gave a sigh when she saw that it was not, as it had been advertised, completely waterproof, and the few spare clothes that she had with her were completely soaked through.

"Here you go." Ruby had dived under the bed and pulled out a pair of pyjamas. "They'll drown you, you skinny thing, but they'll do."

Emma just nodded her thanks, her voice caught in her throat. She didn't know what to say. Granny and Ruby were being so nice, and they knew absolutely nothing about her. She could be a crack addict with the police after her, they could be harbouring a fugitive, but they didn't seem to care. They had recognised that she needed help, desperately, and unlike so many others, they had reached out to her instead of pushing her further away. They hadn't asked her what had happened, how she had ended up in her sorry state. They didn't focus on the past, only the present.

"Here's a blanket," Granny said, shaking one out over the sofa. "It can get chilly up here during the night, so I've got a few more."

Ruby grabbed her own pyjamas and toothbrush.

"Right, I'm going to nab the bathroom before Belle gets in there, she takes _years_."

The other girl skipped nimbly out of the room and Granny smiled.

"Goodnight, Emma. Sleep well."

As she changed into the pyjamas, Emma didn't know if she'd be able to sleep at all. She felt queasy, a mixture of too many biscuits on an empty stomach, pregnancy nausea and guilt. She didn't know how she'd ever be able to repay Granny and Ruby for their kindness. She curled up under the blanket on the sofa. Theoretically, she should have been terrified. She was in an old theatre with six strangers she'd known for all of two hours, who were disarmingly kind and welcoming. Emma had a few visions of secret cannibalistic societies and wondered if she'd wake up to find herself being eaten alive. Maybe they were a family of mad scientists who were going to use her for terrible experiments. What if… What if… What if…

But despite all the logical arguments for wariness, Emma – tired, coming down off her adrenaline rush and sick of fighting everything and everyone – hadn't felt as safe as she did now for a long time. She thought about what Granny had said.

_We all know a desperate soul when we see one. You're amongst friends._

Maybe it was simply a case of knowing a kindred spirit. If they had all been in Emma's position, or a similar one, they would know how she felt, they would want to help her to avoid her falling into the same trap…

Emma fell asleep before she could finish the thought.

* * *

**To Be Continued **


	2. Chapter 2

**Note: **As with all my AU's – **Marina Tempest** is the name I give to **Princess Ariel** from 'The Little Mermaid'.

* * *

**Maison Rouge**

**Chapter Two**

The sun was streaming through the voile curtains that covered the small window in Ruby's room when Emma woke in the morning. Nothing could be seen of the girl herself but a duvet-covered lump in the middle of the bed. Everywhere was comparatively quiet, but Emma could hear someone moving about in the kitchen opposite. Intrigued, and emboldened since the previous evening, she slid off the sofa and pulled her jeans on under Ruby's oversize pyjama shirt before creeping out of the room and into the kitchen. She blinked in surprise at the sight that met her. Alice was making breakfast in the room, humming to herself as she pottered about collecting bread and eggs. That in itself wasn't so surprising. What was surprising was the fact that there was a girl of about ten years old, wearing a blue school uniform, happily sitting at the table eating a boiled egg and reading a book.

"Hello," she said on looking up and seeing Emma hovering in the doorway, betraying no shock at all on seeing a total stranger about to interrupt her breakfast. "You must be Emma. I'm Grace."

Alice turned and waved from the stove.

"Morning, Emma. Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, thanks…" Emma turned back to Grace, who was looking at her expectantly. "Do you live here too?"

Grace nodded. "Yep."

"With your…" Emma faltered. If this really was a gathering ground for the lost and friendless, perhaps 'parents' wasn't quite a good idea.

"With my dad and stepmum," Grace supplied helpfully. "Jefferson and Alice," she added, for clarification. "It's good here. I get to stay up really late on Fridays and there's always loads of ice cream." She turned to Alice. "Can I have some now, actually?"

"Not for breakfast, young lady," Alice scolded. "Come on, you'd best be getting your shoes on, or you'll miss the bus." She pulled a jacket off the back of one of the chairs and put it on. "I'm just going to take Grace to the bus stop, but help yourself to some breakfast," she said.

Emma stepped aside to let Grace and Alice leave the room, completely bemused by what she had just seen, but before she could do anything else, her stomach gave an ominous jolt. The smell of the eggs in the kitchen, coupled with the stale taste of tea and biscuits still on her tongue from last night, was enough to make her feel sick again.

The kitchen sink was full of washing up water and plates, so she took off down the landing towards the door that Ruby had pointed out as the bathroom, one hand clamped over her mouth. The door was locked, as Emma found out when she crashed into it with her full weight, and she squeezed her eyes shut, breathing heavily through her nose to try and stave off the nausea. It didn't help.

Suddenly, there was a click and the door opened, Emma stumbling into the room.

"What the devil is..?" a Scottish accent began, and Emma groaned inwardly, it had _had_ to be Gold. "Oh Christ. In you come."

Emma just made it to the toilet in time, retching violently. She was vaguely aware of Gold shouting for someone, Ruby it turned out, as the next thing she knew, the other girl's gentle voice was soothing her, and her scarlet-tipped fingers were pulling her hair out of her face.

"It's all right, love, it's all right. Gold, give us your dressing gown, she's shivering." Emma felt warm towelling flop round her shoulders and closed her eyes again, resting her head against the cold tiles. "Granny warned me this might happen," Ruby said, her voice not exactly cheerful, but friendly and positive, assuring her that there wasn't a problem, everything was going to be all right, and they weren't going to turn her out on her ear because of this rather dramatic start to the morning.

The wave of nausea finally passed, and Emma sank down onto the floor half-wedged between the toilet and the sink. She finally forced herself to open her eyes and survey the scene in front of her. Ruby was crouching next to her in her pyjamas, half-smiling and rubbing Emma's arm. Gold was stood a little way off wearing a bath towel, his chin dripping shaving foam and blood onto the floor and his expression utterly incomprehensible. He seemed to remember he was bleeding at that point and moved out of his statue-like stillness, turning away and grabbing a handful of tissues to staunch the cut. Blearily, blinking away hot tears of embarrassment, Emma noticed a web of long white scars running across his lower back. Ruby followed her eyeline and her mouth twisted slightly.

"Feeling better?" she asked, a touch too brightly. "Come on then, let's leave Gold to his ablutions." She helped Emma off the floor and took her back down the landing towards her bedroom, keeping an arm around her shoulders. Once they'd arrived back at Ruby's room, the older girl coaxed her back onto the sofa and pulled the covers over her.

"You just rest," Ruby soothed. "I'll bring you some water."

Emma curled up and focused all her thoughts on not crying. She wasn't used to people taking care of her when she was sick. When she'd been very little, obviously her foster parents had taken care of her, but as time had gone on and she'd been shunted from place to place, often into homes with too many kids already, she'd become so used to coping on her own, muddling through. Suddenly having someone mothering her – someone who was only just older than she was, like a big sister she'd never known… It made her feel safe, which made her feel better, but it also left her feeling helpless. She'd always been fiercely independent, and it was only now that she didn't have to be that she realised how hard it had always been.

It also made her realise how vastly unprepared she was. If she couldn't even take care of herself, how the hell was she going to take care of a baby?

Ruby entered the room again, putting down a glass of water and a steaming mug beside the sofa.

"Ginger tea," she said. "Alice's mum's recipe. Works wonders for stomach upsets." She paused. "It's ok. You're in a new place, surrounded by strangers, and you're sick. It can't be easy. But believe me; we've seen worse. I know it's no consolation when you're feeling rotten, but no-one's going to judge you."

"I'm eighteen, pregnant and currently pretty pathetic," Emma mumbled to the pillow. "I bet you're wondering how I even made it here."

"That's not the point." Ruby's voice was firm. "The point is, you did make it here."

She didn't say anything more, letting the words sink in. Emma closed her eyes and tried to go back to sleep. Ruby's words held some comfort, but just not enough…

X

When she woke again, Emma found that there was no sign of Ruby in the room, although the bed had been made and the indents in the cushions showed that someone had been sitting with her and had only recently left the room. Emma sat up gingerly. Her nausea had long passed, but she was still feeling wretched. She had to get out; she didn't belong here amongst these lovely, friendly people. They were a family and she had intruded upon their quiet status quo.

She slipped off the sofa and folded the blankets up neatly, making to leave the room before realising she was still wearing Ruby's pyjama top and Gold's dressing gown. She quickly pulled on yesterday's shirt – her spare clothes still hadn't dried out – and tiptoed out of the room, looking around for anyone who might notice her flight. Emma brushed her teeth in the thankfully empty kitchen and made her way down the narrow stairs towards the theatre itself.

The bar area was empty, or so she thought, and she was halfway to the main stairs and the exit when a voice arrested her progress.

"What _are_ you doing?"

Emma turned to see Gold standing in the corner by the bar, leaning on his cane with that same unnerving stillness that he had shown earlier. She shook her head.

"I'm leaving," she said. "It's too… You're too… You're a family," she finished weakly, slightly overpowered by the depth of his gaze. "You're a family here, and I'm an outsider, I don't belong."

Gold took a few steps towards her, still stopping a long way short.

"Yes, we are a family. A weird family glued together from a hell of a lot of broken pieces, but a family none the less. And every member of this strange little family was once an outsider in your position, Miss Swan. The fact that you don't belong is the very thing that makes you belong here, with the rest of us that don't belong anywhere else. We recognise our own. Mrs Lucas wouldn't have taken you in if she hadn't seen that you belong here, with our cobbled-together family, where you're safe, and understood, and cared about." He gave a snort of cynical laughter. "What in God's name do you plan to do when you leave us?" he continued. "Not a penny to your name and a baby on the way. A very promising future." He shook his head. "Mrs Lucas has taken you under her wing and I'll be damned if I let you throw her offer of a home and hospitality back at her like this."

Emma looked over her shoulder at the staircase down to the box office and the main doors, longing to escape. She did well on her own, she'd survived this long, hadn't she? But Gold's words were true; she had no idea what she was going to do in seven months time when this baby actually arrived. She wasn't used to thinking that far in advance, and she'd already had doubts about her ability to cope once that morning.

"I don't want to be a burden," she said.

"You won't be," said Gold. "You'll work hard and earn your keep like everyone else; you don't get something for nothing. But don't think that we're going to let you walk out of here with no plan and no prospects. Fate brought you to our door, dearie, and she's going to keep you here. We don't care what you did before. We could all fill books with the tales of our pasts. For the present, you're one of us."

He moved past her, into the bowels of the theatre, leaving Emma in a quandary. She could still leave, she was perfectly at liberty to do so. But the fact that Gold, who had seemed so suspicious of her presence the previous evening, and whom she had interrupted so unceremoniously this morning, had been the one to tell her in his gruff, roundabout way that she was welcome and that they wouldn't let her go back to her hopeless, transient life without a fight, gave her pause.

"You were going to run off without saying goodbye. Honestly, I leave you alone for two minutes."

Ruby came out of the door that led to the apartment in the eaves, her arms folded but her expression showing no real anger. Emma glanced in the direction that Gold had disappeared in.

"Did you hear all that?" she asked Ruby. The other girl nodded.

"Yeah."

"He hates me," Emma said weakly. Ruby laughed and shook her head.

"Don't be silly, he's like that with everyone. Well, not Belle. If he hated you he'd have let you walk out that door without a fight." Ruby sighed. "Gold's not comfortable around strangers, he prefers to keep half a stage and the footlights between him and people he doesn't know, and when you know his story, you'll understand why he's so nervous and defensive. It took him at least two weeks to stop looking at Mary Margaret like she was going to break out a machete on him when she first came here."

"What about you?" Emma asked.

"Oh, he's not scared of me, more's the pity," Ruby said with a grin. "He's known me since I was eleven, he knows I'm no threat. As brusque as his manner is, he's one of us. He's been here for years, and he's harmless."

Ruby beckoned Emma over to the bar and clambered over it to pour her a drink.

"It's only pineapple juice," she said, placing it on the bar and encouraging Emma to drink up.

"So what is Gold's story?"

Ruby shook her head.

"Not mine to tell," she said. "Maybe when he's got to know you a bit, he'll tell you himself." She sipped her own juice, and the two girls fell into a companionable silence for a while. "A lot of people have come here seeking help and sanctuary. And in their own way, they always find it. Sometimes, the most beautiful things can blossom out of the most desperate circumstances. Come with me, I want to show you something. The band's practising, so the timing should be impeccable."

Ruby picked up her glass and bade Emma follow her into the auditorium. They came into the dress circle, best seats in the house. From their position they could see the band tuning up at the back of the stage. Gold was standing in the centre, peering up at the lighting gantry. He seemed to be counting the heavy bulbs chained there.

"Third on the left, Sean," he called up. Someone shouted something back down and the lights dimmed, leaving the stage in almost total darkness. The musicians seemed to take this in their stride and just kept playing.

"Gold used to be a stage lighting technician and flyman," Ruby explained, gesturing to the stage. "He only became our compere by chance, really. He had a bad accident – long before he came to us – and that meant he couldn't climb all the ladders to the gantries and get about in tight spaces in the fly loft anymore, so he just did odd technical jobs on the ground for us. He used to write a lot, though, and Granny saw some of his stuff and thought it would be good material for our MC. She liked it, it was her kind of humour – dry and bitterly sarcastic when taken one way and completely innocent when taken another." Ruby laughed. "Our old MC was a drunk," she said. "One day he didn't turn up; there was no-one else who knew the material. It took a lot of persuading but we managed to propel Gold onto the stage, and he's been charming our audience ever since."

"What happened to the other MC?" Emma asked.

"Last I heard, he was living in Antigua with a casino owner," Ruby said. "He never stayed in one place very long." She looked down onto the stage. "Look," she said. "I told you that beautiful things can come from dire straits."

The stage was bathed in dim light once more. Belle had joined Gold in the centre, and they were dancing a very slow waltz to the band's practice music, Gold leaning his weight on Belle rather than on his cane. He seemed the most relaxed that Emma had seen him, and Belle was smiling brightly. They were so incredibly in tune with each other; they had their own little ways of communicating that Emma couldn't quite catch.

The music came to an end and Gold released his hold on Belle, bowing low to kiss her knuckles. Presently the lights went wild, every colour of the rainbow twirling this way and that like a particularly psychedelic disco. Gold rolled his eyes.

"Sean!"

"Sorry!" called Sean from the gantry. "Hit the wrong button!"

The band began tuning again, but one of the sax players – obviously the nominate bandleader – stopped and looked round.

"Where's Marina?" he asked. "She said she'd be here at two. She's doing a new routine tonight and we've barely learned the music."

"She'll be fine, Seb," one of the other musicians said airily. "She always is."

"Hmm." Seb the sax-player was obviously unconvinced. "She'd do better if she turned up to rehearsals."

On the stage, Belle giggled at the disgruntled man before unceremoniously pulling Gold down by the tie, planting a kiss on his forehead and skipping off into the wings.

"Love. Such a wonderful thing when given a safe haven to bloom in."

Emma jumped at the voice; she hadn't heard Granny come in behind them.

"Now, Emma love, you and your luggage" –here Emma had to snort at calling her little backpack 'luggage' – "got a little bit drowned last night," the older woman continued. "Is there anything you want washing, as Belle's doing laundry now. You and Ruby can go and see her and maybe get you a few new things from her storeroom."

Emma's stomach twisted uneasily again.

"I don't want to be a burden," she repeated for the second time that afternoon.

"Oh, don't be silly," said Ruby, leading her and Granny out of the auditorium and down into the backstage area of the theatre. She paused. "We'll find something you can do. Everyone finds their niche here, contributes in some way."

"Belle didn't think she was good for anything until we discovered her prowess with needle and thread," Granny added.

"All I've done is waitressing," Emma admitted.

"Excellent," Granny said. "You can help Ruby behind the bar for a bit. She keeps complaining that she's overworked, don't you?"

"I never said I did it well," Emma muttered. "Got fired from my first and only job."

"You'll be fine, I'm sure," Granny said. "Anyway, there's always something that needs doing in this theatre. We'll find you something, even if it's something you didn't even know existed, or wouldn't think of. But first, let's see if Belle can't help you out with your wardrobe."

Belle was more than happy to help when they found her in the costume store, throwing Emma's clothes into the washing machine and bidding her to look through racks of old costumes in one corner in case anything took her fancy. Ruby and Granny made their excuses and left to go about their work, leaving Emma and Belle alone, going through the unused clothing.

"It's all going spare," Belle reassured. "If you want to borrow anything for a while until your own stuff's ready." She pawed through the racks and pulled out an extremely voluminous black velvet evening gown, holding it up against Emma, who made a face.

Belle laughed. "You're right, not you. We could easily make something from it though. It's been ages since I made proper clothes. Do you fancy a velvet mini-skirt?"

"I…" Emma didn't know what to say.

"If I don't make it for you, I'll make it for me." She pulled her tape measure from where it was looped around her neck and went to pass it round Emma's waist. "May I?"

The younger girl nodded. Belle's fingers were deft and she barely made contact as she measured, pulling away quickly.

"I know people don't always like being pawed by someone they barely know," she said as she jotted down measurements. "You're taller than me but you're slimmer in the waist and hips." She paused. "I can make pretty much anything as long as you give me enough paper for patterns. Of course, what I'm best at is luxury lingerie and Victorian tailoring."

Emma glanced around at all the costumes used on a day-to-day basis that hung around the walls: all feathers, sequins and silk; boned corsets and suspender belts, beautiful evening gowns, exquisite suits.

"Did you make all these?" she asked.

"Oh no, it would have taken me years. Most of the performers who only come for a season or two are well-travelled and bring all their own costumes with them. But I make a lot of them. I make all Rum's waistcoats. I might do him another one from the leftover here." She laid into the velvet dress with her pinking shears – it really could have clothed a small elephant with room to spare. Emma sat down at the table beside her.

"How long have you been here?" she asked.

"Coming up for three years now," Belle replied. "I still remember what it was like to be in your position, the odd one out. The family was a bit different then, of course. Jeff, Grace and Alice hadn't arrived, and Mary Margaret was still living here – you'll meet her later. But Granny, Ruby and Rum were here, like they've always been, and they made me welcome. Well, perhaps not Rum at first, but we won each other over in the end." She smiled at a private memory, and Emma thought it best not to intrude. It had already been made clear to her that everyone in the theatre had a story, and she guessed that she would learn them in due course, just as they would learn hers.

Whilst she had never been in any doubt that she was welcome in the theatre, it was in that moment that Emma first thought that she could see herself staying for the foreseeable future.

* * *

**To Be Continued  
**


	3. Chapter 3

A slight in-joke between me and a friend, but** Mira **is the** Frog Princess **from the Russian fairytale** _Tsarevna Lyagushka_.**

* * *

**Maison Rouge**

**Chapter Three**

Emma stayed in the costume room with Belle for a long time, listening to her anecdotes and learning theatrical terminology, until her stomach began reminding her that she hadn't eaten all day. Belle smiled and looked at her watch.

"Jefferson's probably cooking for Grace now," she said, "and I'm sure he wouldn't begrudge you a portion. We normally have a main meal at lunch and eat after the show in the evening, but we thought it best to let you sleep."

Jefferson was more than happy to offer Emma, and indeed anyone else who happened to enter the kitchen, some food, which was how she found herself being introduced to Leroy and Walter, Granny's odd-job men who did everything from fixing the curtains to acting as bouncers.

"Sometimes people get the wrong impression about this place," Leroy said darkly. Emma kept her mouth shut; she'd been under the same misappreciation herself. "Some folks want what we don't offer. You won't have seen much of Storybrooke yet, but we're a harbour town. Fishing trawlers mainly, but occasionally cargo ships dock out in the bay. Sailors can get… rowdy. We're just here to break up any unpleasantness."

Walter laughed. "You should have seen Dove when he was here. All he had to do was stand there and any disturbances would miraculously vanish. He was about seven feet tall and almost as broad." The last word became a yawn and Leroy smacked Walter round the back of the head.

"You are not falling asleep on the job again!"

"I can't help it! Warm kitchen, good food…" Here Jefferson bowed dramatically. Leroy just rolled his eyes and went back to his pasta. The conversation lulled as they continued to eat, and a few minutes later, the sound of footsteps thundering up the stairs towards the apartment broke the silence.

"Leroy!" came a voice. "The ticket printing machine's broken again!"

Leroy blushed bright red from his chin all the way over his bald head as the owner of the voice came into the room. Emma had to do a double take; for a moment she thought she'd come face to face with Mary Poppins, such was the woman's attire.

"I've tried switching it on and off again, and Mira's tried hitting it with her shoe, but nothing's worked. I think something's got jammed in the insides. And you fixed it in a jiffy last time, so I was hoping you could do the same again. Please, Leroy. You'll be my hero."

At this, Leroy positively beamed. "Of course, Astrid." He left the table and followed Astrid out of the room. Walter and Jefferson sighed, the latter burying his head in his hands.

"Astrid and Mira work in the box office," Grace said.

"I gathered," Emma murmured.

Grace shrugged, and then blithely added, unrelated to her previous sentence: "Dad, can I have some ice cream please?"

Jefferson nodded and replied without moving his hand. "Yes. But not Belle's mint choc chip. I covered for you last time she found it missing, but never again."

Emma stared at the door after Astrid and Leroy.

"Are those two, you know…" she began. "Together?"

"Not for want of us trying," Jefferson muttered. "They've been dancing around each other for as long as I can remember. We've tried everything to get them to admit their feelings for each other short of locking them in the broom cupboard and refusing to let them out until they say 'I love you, will you marry me?' It's painful to watch sometimes."

"Speaking of watches, Dad…" Grace was standing in the kitchen doorway with a bowl of chocolate ice cream. She tapped her wrist. Jefferson looked down at his watch.

"Crumbs, you're right. I'd best be getting ready."

Father and daughter left the room and Emma and Walter looked at each other.

"Looks like we've been left with the washing up then," Walter said mournfully. Emma laughed as she helped him clear the plates away. She had found it so easy to forget that this theatre was both a professional workplace where there were strict deadlines to be adhered to – curtain up at half-past seven, for instance – and a functioning home for some people. (And, from what she had seen, a second home for many more.) Jefferson juggled caring for his daughter with performing feats of magic, all under the same roof. As they washed the dishes, Walter continued to tell Emma stories of the theatre's dual life, of the extended family beyond those who lived in the eaves. Because of the long, anti-social hours that they worked, the theatre folk often stuck together, socialising amongst themselves, separate from the town. There was a hard edge to Walter's voice as he spoke succinctly of the divide in Storybrooke – those who were in involved with _Maison Rouge_ and those who weren't. Emma wondered at the opinions of the town's other residents. Perhaps everyone had the same misunderstanding of the place as she'd first had.

When the kitchen was clean again, Walter left to go back to his work, and Emma found herself meandering back down to the costume room, unsure where she would be welcomed or if she would be in the way backstage. Having not bought a ticket, sitting in the auditorium felt wrong, but at the same time, she had no desire to stay up in the little apartment alone. Ideally, she wanted to find Ruby and stick with her, but the other girl was nowhere to be found. She'd seen Granny a few times, but the older woman was always busy doing something and Emma didn't want to interrupt, so she had decided on Belle as the next best bet.

The costume mistress was not alone in her room. She was on her knees with a mouthful of pins adjusting the trim on the dress of another young woman, dark-haired, who was standing on a chair.

"…so no, sometimes I think George put some kind of curse on us when David split up with Kathryn," she was saying as Belle made sounds of understanding. She tailed off on seeing Emma in the doorway. "Hello."

"Erm, hi." Emma gave an awkward wave. Belle spat out the pins.

"Mary Margaret, this is Emma, she's new. Emma, this is Mary Margaret, the band's vocalist. She used to live here at the theatre too."

"Pleased to meet you, Emma." Mary Margaret held out her hand, unable to move off the chair whilst Belle was still pinning. Emma came over and shook it. She remembered what Ruby had said, about Mary Margaret sleeping on her sofa when she had first come, and she knew that she wouldn't be judged for her hopeless state by the other woman.

"Have you seen the show yet?" Mary Margaret asked Emma, who shook her head.

"No… I only arrived last night. I don't have a ticket."

"Oh, don't worry about that. Just sneak in the back with Astrid and Ruby. None of the audience will notice."

"Right, you're done," said Belle from Mary Margaret's knees. "I'll sew it properly later but it'll do for now." Emma looked up at the clock; it was nearly seven and the doors would be opening soon. The singer jumped off her chair, waved goodbye to Emma and Belle and left in the direction of the stage. Belle had barely had time to tidy up her pins when another voice entered the room.

"Emma! There you are!" Emma turned to see Ruby dash in, and she had to do a double take. Her new friend was wearing a crimson evening gown with a matching feather in her hair and elbow-length fingerless gloves. "I've been looking everywhere for you. I was going to sneak you into the auditorium."

"Great," Emma said, still transfixed by Ruby's attire. "You actually bartend in that?"

Ruby grinned and gave a twirl. "Like it? It's all about creating the right atmosphere. You've seen Astrid's box-office outfit, right? Anyway, the point is, we try and evoke the sense of glamour and period nostalgia as soon as the audience walks in. I've got to go and start setting up now, but if you come up into the bar when you hear the five minute warning call, we'll go in and you can see the show." Ruby paused and looked around the room. "Belle, has Marina come in yet? She didn't turn up for rehearsals and Sebastian was practically foaming at the mouth."

"No, I haven't seen her. But you know Marina. She's probably down at the docks going gooey over a new sailor. She'll come rushing in at the interval."

"I'm here, I'm here." A red-headed girl careened into the room past Ruby, panting. "Sorry, time got away from me and then I had to listen to another of Sebastian's 'why it's important not to miss rehearsals especially when you're doing a new act' lectures. Thanks Belle," she added as the wardrobe mistress handed her a coat hanger laden with a purple evening gown and various other accoutrements.

"So why are you late?" Belle asked.

"Another time, Belle. You can have all the gossip later. I've got to run. Oops, sorry Mr Gold!"

Gold raised an eyebrow as Marina squeezed past him in the doorway and ran down the corridor, dress streaming behind her.

"It's like Picadilly Circus in here today," he muttered as he came into the room. He was wearing a waistcoat of finely embroidered golden silk, and Emma wondered how long it had taken Belle to make. "Will you do the honours, please love?" He held out a hand to Belle and emptied a variety of stage make-up items into her lap before pulling up a chair opposite her. Emma tried to resist the urge to giggle, but it didn't work. Gold merely glared at her.

"Stop that." Belle grabbed his chin and turned his head firmly back towards her so that she could dab base over his nose. "It just takes the shine off under the lights," she explained to Emma. "He hates it."

"Honestly, I don't know how you women put up with having your faces coated in this stuff day after day," Gold muttered. "Well, at least I don't wear eyeliner like a certain magician who shall remain nameless."

"You know, if Granny had her way you would," Belle pointed out.

"Thankfully, Mrs Lucas values her life."

Belle tutted. "You, Rum, are a troublemaker." She fell silent as she concentrated on Gold's face, working some eyeshadow powder into his brows to give them more definition and smudging the barest hint over colour over his lips. "There, you're as done as you ever are." She batted his fingers as they came up to his face. "Don't you dare scratch it off! You'll end up stripy!"

"Thank you, love." Gold sat back and tied the cravat that had been hanging limply round his neck, and Belle brought over a red brocade frockcoat. She brushed off his lapels after he put it on, and stood up on tiptoe to kiss his ear.

"Knock 'em dead," she said.

"I always do."

Gold left the room and the two women had a few minutes to themselves before Jefferson arrived, looking rather flustered beneath the makeup.

"Don't tell me, Mary Margaret let the rabbits out again," Belle said.

"No, no, Flopsy, Mopsy and Hopsy are all fine. Grace named them," he added on seeing Emma's raised eyebrow.

"No she didn't," Belle whispered, but Jefferson was too agitated to notice. "What have you lost, Jeff?"

"My hat," Jefferson said, ducking down under the table to look for it there. "I can't perform without my hat, Belle! If Tara's taken it to use as part of her act again, I'll…"

"Jeff, Tara's doing her fan dance tonight. She won't have taken your hat."

"I need it!" Jefferson's voice whined from under the table. "When was the last time you saw it?"

"On your head during last night's performance," Belle said drily. "Jeff…"

"Maybe Mulan's got it," the conjuror interrupted.

"Jeff, be reasonable. She hardly needs it to work the curtains and make the announcements up in the fly loft now, does she? Now you're just being silly."

"Jeff!"

Alice's voice could be heard outside the costume room, and the woman herself entered a few moments later, wearing an eyepoppingly sparkly blue leotard trimmed with white feathers and ribbons. She was holding a black silk top hat.

"Jeff, your hat was where you left it last night, now come on, the five minute warning's about to go."

A shrill little bell rang through the theatre's backstage area, followed by a tinny voice.

"_Ladies and gentlemen of the Maison Rouge company, this is your five minute warning call. Beginners to stage please. Oh, and Jefferson, if you're still looking for your hat, Alice has got it."_

Jefferson, who had since extricated himself from under the table, looked up in the direction of the speaker on the wall from which the voice had emanated, rather sheepish.

"Thank you, Mulan," he mumbled. Alice rolled her eyes and dragged him off towards the stage.

"You'd better go and find Ruby," Belle said. "I'll be watching from the wings in case of any last minute wardrobe emergencies. Enjoy the show, and I'll see you after."

Emma left the costume room and made her way back up towards the bar area, where Astrid and another woman in similar attire whom Emma took to be Mira, the other box office lady, were shepherding patrons into the auditorium, ready for the show to begin.

"Ready?" Ruby came up behind her. "You'll love it."

After the last paying audience member had entered, Astrid ushered Ruby and Emma into the darkened auditorium before slipping inside herself and shutting the doors behind them. Mira waved goodbye, saying something about going home to put her pyjamas on and have her boyfriend feed her spaghetti carbonara.

The stage was pitch black and seemingly bare.

"_Ladies and gentlemen, please be aware that the Maison Rouge theatre operates a no-smoking policy, and the use of photography or recording equipment in the auditorium is strictly forbidden. Thank you for your co-operation, and please enjoy the show."_

Mulan's voice sounded out over the public address system. There was a moment of stillness and silence before the lights came up, revealing the band at the back of the stage with Mary Margaret perched on a little stool beside them, and Gold spotlit in the centre.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began softly. "Welcome to the Maison Rouge, and the spectacle that awaits you here tonight, a glorious showcase of music, dance, striptease and magic…"

Emma was already spellbound.

* * *

**Slightly shorter than usual today, but this will hopefully be made up for in the next chapter, wherein we begin to learn some backstories… **


	4. Chapter 4

**Note: **Hello my lovelies. Apologies for the wait, life and various other complications happened. Please enjoy the latest offering in spite of the tardiness.**  
**

In case anyone is interested, my mental image of Marina is Karen Gillan of Doctor Who fame, but feel free to see her however you want.

For the purposes of this story, Bae and Neal are separate people. Neal is only mentioned in passing and does not appear.

* * *

**Maison Rouge**

**Chapter Four**

"Come on, Emma, wake up!"

Emma opened her eyes to find Ruby perched on the arm of the sofa, already fully dressed. She groaned and pulled the blankets back up over her head. It was her second morning at the theatre, and she was hoping that it would be slightly more successful than her first. She would admit, there were a few more things working in her favour this time round. The previous evening had been far more enjoyable, spent still on a high from watching the show and wondering at all the acts; learning more about the mechanics of the theatre as Ruby and Astrid provided odd bits of commentary in their little hidey hole at the back of the auditorium. Jefferson had joined them in the second act having performed in the first half and gone to tuck Grace in at the interval, and he had also provided helpful insights that had Emma struggling to contain her laughter and focus on the stage.

"Oh come on," Ruby said. "You've got to get up. It's Thursday, there's no performance, and Mary Margaret's invited us for brunch. She's a really good cook," the older girl added. "It was a shame when she moved out and stopped making lunch for us every day."

Reluctantly, Emma pulled the blankets down to her nose so that she could look at Ruby over the top of them. Brunch did sound like a good idea, especially as she wasn't feeling sick as a parrot for once. "I can show you round the town as well if you want. There's nothing extremely exciting, I must say. We're in the most newsworthy bit, if I'm honest."

Emma sat up on the sofa and hugged her knees beneath the blanket. "Walter said that the theatre's pretty notorious in town. You don't always get on with the locals."

Ruby snorted.

"We _are_ locals," she said. "I've lived in Storybrooke my entire life. The theatre was here long before most of the rest of the town. It was a burlesque music hall before it was closed down in the 1890's and Granny just revived the tradition a hundred years later. But it's a small town. Small minds. We've spent so long fraternising with outsiders that we've become outsiders ourselves." She sighed. "Enough of that. Since several people who live in the town are employed here at the theatre, we don't have too many problems. The majority of the people are fine with having a burlesque theatre on the outskirts, especially once they pull up the courage to see a show and see that there's more to it than just women taking their clothes off. But there are a few who like to stir up trouble." She smiled brightly. "But we'll talk no more of them. I'm not having Mayor Mills ruining the thought of a perfectly good brunch. So come on, get dressed and we'll have a nice day out. Everyone else has already split so you can take as long in the bathroom as you want."

Won over at last by the prospect of brunch, Emma got off the sofa. After taking Ruby's advice and staying in the shower until the water ran cold, and throwing on newly laundered clothes, Emma found her friend sitting on the kitchen table, swinging her legs.

"Ready?" Ruby asked brightly. "Let's go."

The main town centre was only a short walk from the theatre, and Ruby spent the majority of it pointing out random points of architecture or quoting interesting but ultimately useless bits of town trivia. David and Mary Margaret lived about fifteen minutes into the town centre in an apartment above a bakery. Emma had met David briefly the previous evening, after the show, but he had been running around trying to find a home for a large coil of electrical wire at the time so it hadn't really been a proper introduction. David and Sean, in transpired, were in charge of lighting, with occasional help from Gold if something was beyond their expertise.

Mary Margaret was an exceptionally good cook; Ruby had not been exaggerating.

"You're lucky, Emma," she'd said as David cleared away the plates. "You've entered a community where the majority can list 'feeding people' as their main hobby. I have a new recipe for spinach lasagne that I'm dying to try out. You're welcome to come over any time and sample it."

Emma had politely declined. Lasagne sounded great, but she wasn't too enthralled by the 'spinach' part of it.

Ruby had offered to help David wash up, and Emma had been left alone at the table with the dark-haired singer.

"So…" she had begun, unsure of a conversation starter. Theoretically they were both in the same boat, belonging to the little crowd of lost and friendless who had come to the _Maison Rouge_ having nowhere else to go. Seeing Mary Margaret, though, had given Emma some fresh hope at the point when she thought that she had been all out. Here was a woman who had been in Emma's situation but who had pulled through it, now living in a nice flat with a man she loved .There was something sad in her eyes though, when she looked at Emma, a tiniest glimmer showing that when she said she was fine and perfectly happy, she wasn't being completely truthful.

Mary Margaret had saved the conversation with an anecdote about Jefferson's wayward rabbits, and Ruby had dragged Emma off to show her the town and all her favourite places, which was how they had ended up by a slightly damp bench in the harbour.

It looked bleak in the grey weather, but Emma had no doubt that the docks would look much prettier in the summer time. She sat down on the bench beside Ruby and watched her breath curl into mist in the cold November air.

"My mum and dad used to bring me down here to watch the boats come in when I was little," Ruby explained. "It's pretty much all I remember about them, so it's always been one of my favourite places in town."

"What happened?" Emma asked. Normally she wouldn't like to intrude, but Ruby seemed to have offered the information as a conversation point.

"Car accident," Ruby said. "I was six; I don't really remember it so it's ok. It's just been me and Granny since then. But sometimes I just wonder what it would be like, you know? To go out there and have adventures. I've lived by the sea my entire life and I've never even been on a boat. Well, I've been on Leroy's but we never actually left the mooring stage so that doesn't count." She sighed. "I love it here. I love the theatre and I love the people. Inside that building, everything's great. So don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining about that. But this town… The atmosphere's so… oppressive. I don't necessarily want to see the entire world. I just want to say I've been somewhere. Dr Hopper's going to Barcelona for a conference in a couple of weeks; he promised to take lots of pictures for me."

Emma looked sideways at her friend, who was looking out to sea in the vague direction of Spain.

"Ruby, who's Dr Hopper?" she asked.

"Oh, erm, no-one," Ruby said, far too quickly. She was blushing as bright as her nail varnish.

"He doesn't sound like no-one."

"Emma!"

"Ok, ok, I'll leave it alone." She paused, fumbling for the previous conversation topic. "So, have you and Granny always lived in the theatre then?"

Ruby nodded.

"Yes. Many people have come and gone, but Granny and I've been there the longest. Well, Granny was there before I was even born, and I moved in with her after Mum and Dad died."

"What about your aunts? Uncles? Cousins?" Emma remembered what Granny had said on her first night about having three children and six grandchildren.

The corner of Ruby's mouth twitched. "We don't have any contact with them," she said. "They cut themselves off. They didn't approve of Granny taking on the theatre. They said that she was too old to start something so large with no experience, and that burlesque cabaret wasn't a business that someone like her should be involved with in the first place." She sighed. "My mum was the only one of her children who supported her, and moved down here to Storybrooke to help her. When everyone learned that she wanted Granny to care for me rather than either of her siblings' families, well, that was when things came to a head. I haven't seen my aunts and uncles for years. It would be nice to know how my cousins are doing though. All I remember of them is Quinn and I building sandcastles on Exmouth Beach when I was about three."

Emma thought about the story she had just been told, and tried to process the information in her head. Granny must have been running the theatre for at least twenty years, and it was still going strong. But there was something in the back of her mind, something Gold had said.

_My theatre, Mrs Lucas._

"Doesn't Gold own the theatre, though?" she asked, puzzled. If he owned it, how could Granny have been there longer?

"Ah, you caught that. Yes, Gold legally owns the building, as of about six years ago. Theoretically we're all living there rent-free and he can evict us if he wants, not that he's going to." Ruby sounded remarkably confident of that fact. "But as Granny says, the business is hers. She built it up out of nothing and she gets the final say in everything."

Emma raised her eyebrows. Whilst she'd already pegged Granny as a tour de force, she hadn't been sure quite how influential she was.

"Why did she do it? Randomly decide to take on a theatre and open a cabaret?"

Ruby shrugged.

"To this day, I do not know. I don't think Granny does either. I think she was maybe styling herself as the next Mrs Henderson." Ruby laughed. "No, I think she wanted to throw herself into something new after Grandpa died, to take her mind off it, and this took her fancy. And once Granny sets her mind on something, she makes sure she does it well."

"I don't think that can be denied," Emma said. "How long has the theatre been going?"

"Twenty-three years," Ruby said. "It helps that the acts are always changing – variety shows are by their very nature transient. Some people stay for years, some only a few weeks as part of a larger tour. But it's always evolving. Jefferson's constantly developing new tricks. The dancers do new routines, the band play new music. Gold writes new material. Yes, we're survived pretty much everything the moral crusaders have thrown at us and we're still here to tell the tale. The only time we nearly closed was when… Well, that's a story for another time, and our Scottish knight in shining red brocade armour helped us out then." Ruby paused. "It's getting cold, we should probably be heading back. I heard Jefferson say that he was going to get Sean to jerry-rig the projector so that he could watch the football in ultra-widescreen on the back wall of the stage. We'd better go and see the devastation that's been wreaked."

"Right…"

"Oh, we've turned the auditorium into a cinema before," Ruby said. "That's not the problem. The problem is more that usually, it's David or Gold doing the electrical mumbo-jumbo. Sean means well, but… Well, you saw the disco lights during rehearsals yesterday. He's still learning, bless him."

They left their bench and were making their way back out of the docks when Emma saw a familiar face peer around the edge of a warehouse. She narrowed her eyes.

"Is that Marina?" she asked. The little red-head looked different without her thick stage make-up, wearing jeans and a heavy tweed coat rather than rhinestones and feathers covering the bare essentials. Ruby followed her eyeline and nodded.

"Yes. Marina sneaking around the marina. How apt. What's she up to I wonder?" She grinned. "Marina has a bit of a thing for sailors."

Marina was now watching them, and even from the distance between them, Emma could tell that she was wearing a 'damn, I've been rumbled' expression. Ruby gave the dancer a little wave. Marina shook her head and then waved them over with quick, nervous motions, still keeping a lookout on either side.

"You can't tell anyone you've seen me here," she hissed as they came round the back of the warehouse. "You know this town, it'll get back to Dad sooner or later."

Ruby raised an eyebrow. "Ok, our lips are sealed,… Why all the skulduggery, Marina? As if I can't guess."

Marina sighed.

"I'm meeting someone," she said. "Dad doesn't approve, so we're keeping it as quiet as possible."

"I thought it might be one of those." Ruby's face showed a certain degree of understanding, but Emma was completely confused. "What's his name and which trawler does he work on?"

"Eric Prince," Marina replied. "He works on the Wonder. And if you breathe a word of this to anyone, I will do something unspeakable to you involving Sebastian's saxophone!"

"Marina?"

Emma and Ruby turned to see a rather puzzled-looking young man standing behind them.

"Hi, Eric," Marina began sheepishly, "I was just…"

"We were just leaving," said Ruby. "Enjoy your date. Emma and I certainly enjoyed our walk, during which we didn't bump into anyone we knew. Right, Emma?"

"No-one," Emma agreed. Since she didn't know anyone else in town anyway, she wasn't likely to be spreading news of Marina's secret boyfriend around.

"Great. Thanks, ladies."

Marina and Eric disappeared off round the corner of the warehouse, and Ruby and Emma continued to make their way back towards the theatre.

"So… What was that about?" Emma asked. "What's with Marina's dad?"

"He doesn't approve of Marina dating fishermen."

Emma furrowed her brow.

"He does know what she does for a living, right?"

"Yes, of course."

"So he approves of his daughter being a striptease artiste, but not of her dating…"

"It's not the dating that he has a problem with," Ruby said. "It's the fishermen. Bob Tempest is a bit of an animal-and-fish rights activist. You see him outside the fishmongers' shops sometimes with a placard saying 'Fish Are Friends, Not Food'. He's all right really, but whilst Marina lives under his roof, she's under his rules. Marina adores him, but sadly, her taste in men tends towards those who work on the trawlers. She'll meet Mr Right eventually, and they'll sail off into the sunset and eat clam chowder all day…"

Ruby stopped in her tracks and her speech tailed off.

"Damn," she muttered. "Where the hell is Granny when you need her?"

Emma followed Ruby's gaze across the street. A woman was looking at them, watching them. A woman who radiated power from her sleek bobbed hair to her five-inch stilettos.

"Mayor Regina Mills," Ruby hissed. "Self-styled Queen of Storybrooke and leader of the moral crusade."

Mayor Mills smiled nastily and crossed the street towards them.

"Whatever you do, don't tell her your real name," Ruby whispered.

"Why not?"

"Her right hand man's a journalist. He'll find out your life story and have your dirty laundry over the front page of the Mirror before you can say 'Persil washing powder'. It'll happen anyway, but at least it'll throw her off the scent for a little while."

"Miss Lucas," the mayor said as she reached them, her expression benign and worryingly welcoming. "And I don't believe we've met. Regina Mills, Mayor of Storybrooke."

She held out her hand and Emma shook it firmly, with more confidence than she actually felt.

"Emma Cassidy," she said. As much as it pained her to say Neal's name as her own, it was the first one that came into her head.

"Welcome to Storybrooke, Miss Cassidy. I hope you enjoy your stay."

Her tone implied the exact opposite, and the emphasis on the word 'stay' made it clear to Emma that she was regarded as someone transient, passing through, never destined to belong in the community. The thought made her shiver. Emma was used to not belonging anywhere, but she was just beginning to feel that maybe the theatre offered more of a home than she had ever really known. .

"I presume you're currently residing at the burlesque house," Regina continued, her disgust barely disguised beneath a friendly veneer. Emma felt her hackles raise, but Ruby had already risen to the unspoken challenge in the words.

"Emma is living with us in the _theatre_, yes," she said coolly. "We've just taken her on as a new bar steward. We've had so many patrons recently that I simply can't manage on my own anymore."

Regina's returning smile was anything but charming.

"Really. Doesn't it get rather cramped in there, with all your 'staff' living in? One would think they had homes of their own to go to." She looked at her watch lazily. "Well, I would love to stay here chatting to you two delightful young ladies, but sadly time is against me. It was nice meeting you, Miss Cassidy. I hope you'll get to see more of our little town during your time here."

"I'm sure I'll have plenty of time to learn everything there is to know," Emma said, Ruby's snide remarks bolstering her own confidence. The mayor left them with a final cruel smile, and once the older woman was out of earshot, Ruby let out a long, shaky breath, clenching and unclenching her fists.

"God, that woman makes me so angry!" she muttered under her breath. "Granny can handle her better than I can; she doesn't take any nonsense from anyone."

"That seemed pretty good to me," Emma admitted.

"I was this close to punching her in that prissy little mouth of hers," Ruby growled. "Honestly, she doesn't even have to say anything, her mere presence has me foaming at the mouth." She sighed. "Sorry, I wasn't going to let Regina spoil a perfectly good brunch and now she has."

"Brunch was still great," Emma said. "You look as if you could do with a second helping to cheer you up though."

Ruby shook her head.

"No, I don't need more bacon. I know what I need. Hot chocolate. Come on, let's go home and get some."

The light was fading by the time they reached the theatre, and Emma was surprised to see none of the windows illuminated.

"Ah," said Ruby when Emma voiced her concern. "I think I might know the reason for that." She let them into the theatre and locked the door behind her.

"Hello?" Emma called through the gloomy foyer. "Anyone in?"

"They're all down in the basement." A torch was pointed in their direction then lowered, and Emma could just make out a young blonde woman balancing a baby on her hip. "The inevitable happened."

"I thought it might have done," Ruby said. "Ashley, this is our new arrival, Emma. Emma, this is Sean's partner Ashley. And this is Alexandra."

The baby gurgled on cue.

"Pleased to meet you." Ashley waved her torch in the direction of one of the 'staff only' doors in the foyer. "Come on, I need to rescue Sean."

Emma could hear Sean being berated as soon as the door was opened, or rather, she could hear a voice grumbling in unintelligible Glaswegian dialect that she assumed was Gold berating his subordinate. As they got down into the basement, Emma saw Granny, Belle, Grace and Alice all holding torches and shining them down at a rather complicated-looking mess of wires and electrical components, from under which Gold's legs were sticking out. Sean was sitting on a step-stool a little way off, doing an uncanny impression of a kicked puppy.

"Erm, what happened?" Emma ventured to ask.

"This one," Gold growled, one hand appearing from under the electrical mess and waving a soldering iron menacingly in Sean's direction, "managed to blow the power to the entire theatre."

"Ok… So he isn't even allowed to hold a torch now?"

"No," Gold said crossly. "He's an electrical hazard."

"I'm sorry," Sean said mournfully. "I thought I'd seen you and David do it enough times. It's only a projector, how hard could it be?"

Gold gave a resounding hmph and returned to his work. Presently there was a spark from under the wires and he gave a yelp of pain. "F…" he began, before Granny cut him off.

"No swearing in front of Grace and Lexy," she said sternly. It was at this juncture that Ruby and Emma came to the mutual conclusion that it was probably safer to leave those in the basement be, and they came back up into the main theatre, aided by Ashley's torch. As they were making their way back up the stairs, there was the crack of another spark behind them:

"OH F…"

"Gold! Young ears!"

"KNICKERS!"

Emma, Ruby and Ashley burst into fits of laughter.

"Poor Gold," the young mother said. "He might be there a while. It really was one of Sean's more spectacular blow-ups. Sparks and smoke and disco lights and everything."

She guided them through the theatre, up to the apartment and into Ruby's room, whereupon its occupant busied herself with lighting candles.

"It's almost like old times," Ashley said, settling down on Ruby's bed and bouncing Alexandra on her lap. "Seems like only yesterday I wandered into town, driven t distraction by my step-family and determined to make a name for myself. Of course, then Sean and Lexy happened in fairly short order afterwards so it didn't quite go as planned. But still."

Ruby blew out her final match and Ashley switched off the torch, the room now bright enough with the candles. Emma looked at the other blonde and her daughter, and wondered. In a year or so, that would be her. It was a scary thought.

Ruby began pawing about under her bed, finally coming up with a shoebox, decorated by a child's unskilled but enthusiastic fingers. She brushed off the dust and came over to Emma, sitting on the sofa beside her.

The box was full of photographs.

"This is my mum and dad," Ruby said, holding out a couple of snapshots. The familial resemblance between Ruby and her dad was clear to see. "And that's my cousin Quinn on Exmouth Beach. We built an amazing sandcastle and then I dropped my ice-cream on it. I was distraught, naturally, but all Quinn said was that it made a better flag."

Emma continued to look through the photos. The majority were of Ruby and Granny, occasionally some of other people involved with the theatre and the odd person she didn't recognise. She smiled at one of Grace asleep on one of the sofas in the bar, curled around three very fat white rabbits.

The final picture in the box, slightly dog-eared around the edges, was taken on the same bench that she and Ruby had sat on that afternoon; Ruby's mum and dad with Granny and baby Ruby. They all looked so happy, as if nothing was about to go wrong in their lives. The thought made Emma uncomfortably emotional and she put the picture back in the box, covering it with the others. She wondered what it would have been like to have loving parents, even if only for six years.

There was a knock at the door and Belle's head appeared round it.

"Rum's got the power back," she said. "We're watching the game in the auditorium, and Sean's been sent to get Chinese as penance. If you want in, he's taking orders now."

"Excellent!" Ruby bounced around her room blowing out the candles and pulled Emma out of the apartment towards the auditorium. "Special chow mein with extra chilli sauce!"

Emma laughed and let herself be dragged away. Whilst she may not have a real family of her own, the theatre was certainly providing a new family for her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Apologies again for the wait. I hope you enjoy the chapter nonetheless!**

* * *

**Chapter Five**

Emma had been staying at the Maison Rouge for almost two weeks, and she was just about getting used to the theatre's routines. She had met all the staff, from the regulars who lived in the eaves and already considered her to be part of their adopted family, to Mulan and Philip in the flyloft whom she hardly ever saw on a night-to-night basis. The show didn't perform on Thursdays and Sundays, but at least one of the other cast or staff members could generally be found hanging around the around in the building, even on these days. She had been shown around almost every part of the theatre from top to bottom (apart from the rigs and gantries above the stage, as Granny had said that she wasn't insured and as such was a health and safety risk), and she was learning the ways of burlesque fast. The theatre folk had been nothing but welcoming, and Emma was beginning to feel a true sense of belonging.

So when Ruby asked her one day if she wanted to start helping out in the bar that evening, Emma felt confident enough to say yes.

"I don't have anything to wear though," she said, looking at the scarlet evening gown that hung on Ruby's wardrobe. Its owner rolled her eyes and pointed at her bedroom door and the way out of the apartment.

"Since when has that ever been a problem for us here?" she asked. "Come on. If I know Belle, she'll already have got something in the pipeline for you."

Belle didn't disappoint. As soon as they entered the wardrobe mistress's little domain, she held up a blue evening gown against Emma's frame.

"It's one of Ashley's old ones," she explained. "Just until I get time to go to the department store in the next town over and buy new fabric off the bolt. I've customised it for you; taken out the boning so it doesn't squash your tummy, and sewn up the side seam properly, added a few more spangles to hide the butchery."

"It's lovely," Emma said. It was lovely, the dress was beautiful. She just couldn't see herself wearing it. She'd always been more of a tomboy in jeans and boots; her skirts were straight cut rather than flounced, and she was fairly sure that she had never worn quite as much glitter on one garment before, even when she was six and everything she owned was pink and glittery. Because of course, every foster home she'd been in equated 'girl under ten years' with 'pink and glittery'.

They took the gown back upstairs to Ruby's room, and the older girl helped Emma do her hair and make-up. She looked at herself in the mirror, barely recognising her own reflection. She looked great, there was no doubt that Ruby's enthusing had its grounds in fact somewhere, but she didn't feel right. She didn't feel like herself.

"Ok, I've got to get myself ready now, so you go down to the bar and I'll see you in a sec. You do look fantastic, honestly."

Emma nodded, trusting herself to believe Ruby's words but not quite trusting herself to walk in the kitten heels she'd been loaned. She wobbled her way down the stairs and took up her position behind the bar to wait for her friend.

She was a little apprehensive considering the ignominious manner in which her last job had ended, but she was also determined to succeed this time. The theatre folk, especially Granny and Ruby, had been so good to her and she wanted to repay their kindness. If this was the way in which she could help best, then this was what she would do. Ruby, Alice and Belle had all worked wonders in boosting her confidence over the past fortnight, and Emma had come round to thinking that since her fortunes had turned for the better in the grander scheme of her life, maybe they could in her customer service skills as well.

The bar area was eerily empty, considering it served as the main living room area for the theatre's residents. (Alice, Jefferson and Grace had their own little sitting room since their part of the apartment was practically self-contained and only shared the kitchen with the others, but it was barely big enough to house the sofa and TV that were squashed into it.) The rest of the staff and performers were backstage or in the wings, going about their own jobs.

Presently Ruby came down, and the next twenty minutes were spent giving Emma a crash course in bar tending and cocktail mixology. She was just putting the finishing touches to a halfway decent mojito when Astrid came up into the bar from the foyer, signalling that the audience was about to start coming in.

Their first patron was unknown to Emma, but not to Ruby.

"Dr Hopper! We haven't seen you for a while. When are you off to Barcelona?"

"Sunday," the doctor said, blushing. He pushed his glasses further up his nose and sat down on one of the bar stools; Ruby placed a gin and tonic in front of him without having to ask him what he wanted. "How are you, Ruby?" he asked. "It seems you have a new helper."

"I'm very well thank you, Dr Hopper."

"I've told you before," Dr Hopper mumbled. "You can call me Archie."

"All right then. I'm very well thank you, Archie. This is Emma, she's new at the theatre."

"Pleased to meet you," Emma said as Archie held out his hand to shake.

"Dr Hopper – Archie – is a psychiatrist. His office is on the main street next to the bakery, and he's one of our most regular visitors."

"Yes, well…" Archie began, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, obviously embarrassed by something, but Ruby carried on regardless.

"Jefferson's got some new material tonight," she said. "I think he's finally worked out not only how to saw Alice in half, but also how to put her back together again."

Archie smiled, and he stayed smiling long after Ruby had bustled off to the other end of the bar to serve the next patrons. Emma immediately knew the reason why Archie frequented the show so much. She leaned over the bar so that she could talk to the young doctor without Ruby overhearing.

"So, how many times have you come to see the show just so that you can talk to Ruby?" she asked. "It must be costing you a fortune."

Archie nodded sadly. "How did you guess?"

"I'm very observant," Emma said. It was one thing she prided herself on. She noticed the little non-verbal signals people gave out; it helped her tell when she was being lied to. "And you're not the most subtle I've seen."

She thought back to her and Ruby's conversation on the bench in the harbour and the way that Ruby had clammed up when talking about the mysterious Dr Hopper, and the way she could interact so brightly and bubbly with him now. It was all an act, Emma could see that. Ruby was playing a part behind the bar just as everyone else played their roles on the stage, and that was probably the reason (or one of them) why Archie hadn't made a move. This Ruby, the Ruby he always saw by default, was happily aloof, the same bouncy soul with every one of her customers, and she wasn't showing any overt interest in him. If they continued in this vein, they would never get anywhere.

"For what it's worth, she feels the same way about you," Emma said casually. Archie looked up sharply.

"She does?"

Emma nodded. "I'm pretty certain. And like I said: I'm observant. She was talking about you the other day, and when she answered 'no-one' to the question 'who's Dr Hopper?' she was definitely lying."

Archie glanced over at Ruby and sighed.

"But she's so… She's so… _Ruby_."

Emma nodded her agreement. Ruby's personality had the potential to be overbearing, but she also had an enormous capacity for love and friendship, as Emma had found out in the past weeks.

"Ask her out on Thursday night," she said. "You've got nothing to lose."

Archie's gaze flickered between Emma and Ruby for a long time, weighing up the pros and cons. Emma had to leave him to serve another customer, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw him drain his drink and go over to where Ruby was serving.

The custom gradually picked up and Ruby and Emma ended up at a healthy level of busy until the five minute warning bell sounded and the box office girls started to usher everyone into the auditorium. Once the last audience member was seated and the doors were closed, Ruby threw her arms around Emma with a squeal.

"Archie asked me out!" she said happily. "I never thought he would!" She let go of Emma and took a step back. "And I have you to thank for it. Thank you!"

Emma shrugged. "Well, I just thought I'd grease the wheels a bit, you know?"

"I'm so glad you did! Thank you." Ruby hugged her friend again, and Emma smiled. Perhaps bar work – with a side of matchmaking – was for her after all.

X

The next day found Emma in the kitchen with Granny. It was the older woman's turn to make lunch for the collective residents (and anyone else who happened to be there and wanted to be fed) and she had seconded Emma's help. Before she knew it, Emma was peeling a veritable mountain of potatoes.

Granny cast a quick glance round the kitchen, as if to check they were alone, before she spoke.

"Now, Emma, I've been meaning to speak to you about more personal matters for a little while now."

Emma's hand went to her stomach unconsciously. Whilst she was still pretty flat to look at with her clothes on, when she lifted her shirt she could tell that the curve of her tummy was definitely growing.

Granny nodded, "I've noticed that you haven't been as sick in the mornings these past few days, but I still think it would be a good idea for you to see a midwife for a checkup if nothing else. You haven't seen a doctor since you first skipped a period, have you? You don't actually know how far along you are."

Emma shook her head guiltily. Her life being as transient as it had been since she had left the care system with no real place to go, she wasn't registered with a doctor and she didn't want to go to hospital unless it was a dire emergency. Granny didn't judge her though, she just patted her arm and smiled.

"I'll see if I can get you an appointment with Cara. She looked after Ashley when she was expecting Lexy, so she knows us."

Emma was grateful for Granny's foresight. This Cara woman, whoever she was, already knew about the theatre and its more unusual living arrangements, so Emma would not need to try and explain them nor feel shamed for her semi-homelessness. It was strange, and slightly scary, how quickly she had got used to thinking of the theatre as a home. It was so ingrained into her, after so many years of disappointment in foster homes, that nowhere was a true home. Every time she had ever felt at home somewhere, she was soon enough taken from it again, so she had learned never to think of anywhere as home, just as a temporary place to rest. The theatre had felt like home instinctively, and what was more, she _wanted _it to, despite the little niggling voice in the back of her mind (a voice that sounded remarkably like Regina Mills) persisting in telling her that it wouldn't last, it never did.

Emma shook the thought away. She was home, for now, and she wasn't going to think about the future, when she might not be.

"Thanks, Granny," she said.

Granny just smiled and put the potatoes on to boil. Emma's role completed, she was at a loss for what to do; she suspected that Granny had only commandeered her services in order to catch her on her own for a private conversation. She left the kitchen and made to wander back down to the bar or the auditorium and see if she could be of use anywhere else, but before she could do so, something caught her eye.

Belle and Gold's bedroom door was slightly ajar. Of all the places in the building that she had explored with Ruby, this was one room that she had never seen as the door had always been closed, and Emma didn't like to intrude in the theatre's private spaces. Today, though, the door was a little open. Curious, Emma pushed it a fraction further and peeped inside to check that there was no-one about before inserting herself fully.

The room wasn't all that much bigger than Ruby's, but it boasted a quirky little window seat piled high with knitted cushions in varying shades of red and burgundy. The whole room was decorated in these dark tones, and it somehow managed to make it feel cosy rather than oppressive. It was more of a nest than a room – the cushions piled everywhere stood testament to that fact. A safe haven, Emma surmised. Somewhere in which Belle and Gold could shut themselves away and forget the world around them. Emboldened by the fact that no secret alarm seemed to have gone off to betray her presence, Emma took a step further into the room and looked around a bit more. The main feature was the bed, which had obviously originally been a four poster, but was now missing one of its posts as it wouldn't fit under the sloped ceiling.

A small wardrobe and an antique screen in one corner made up the rest of the furniture, along with a cluttered dressing table. In terms of actual beauty products, there were relatively few – a few choice make-up items, a silver hairbrush with real bristle, and some generic aftershave. Most of the space was taken up by photographs: Belle and Gold together in the auditorium, Gold in his full regalia and Belle wearing one of the evening dresses from the costume room; a wedding photograph of two people that Emma guessed to be Belle's parents – the woman looked too alike to the little wardrobe mistress to be anything but. There was also a snapshot of a much younger Gold with a baby in his arms. She'd heard Ruby talk about a son, but she hadn't enquired any further. Emma moved to pick up one of the photos, study it more closely, but something else arrested her attention. One corner of the dressing table was occupied by a large and obviously well-loved teddy bear, the fur worn and patchy and the eyes scratched and dull.

"Don't touch it."

Gold's voice from the doorway was a barely audible growl, and Emma whirled round, withdrawing her hand. The compere was standing completely still, his expression dark. "What are you doing in here anyway?"

"I'm sorry, I… The door was open…" Emma stuttered. She was beginning to feel dizzy as a result of turning round too quickly and she stumbled slightly as she moved away. Gold raised an eyebrow as he instinctively held out an arm to steady her.

"And you took that as an invitation?"

"I don't know, I'm sorry, ok?"

Emma could hear herself panicking, getting frustrated, and she could recognise the telltale quiver in her voice that meant she was about to start crying. She cursed her stupid hormones. Just when she had thought that she and Gold had reached a kind of truce, this had happened and upset the fragile balance.

"Sh, sh, sh." Gold's manner softened as she burst into tears, and he guided her over to the end of the bed, clearing away some of the cushions so that they could sit down. "I'm sorry I startled you. Head between your knees, there's a good girl."

The dizziness began to pass and Emma took a few deep breaths as Gold continued to talk.

"I forget how young you are, and the delicate condition that you're in," he said. "Your life has matured you beyond your years but you're still a scared teenager at heart. We all of us have different experiences and expectations of the world that make us the way we are. In my case, a grumpy old man."

Emma trusted herself to look up and dried her eyes on her sleeve. Gold's angry expression had dropped and he was looking more relaxed than she'd ever seen him with her.

"You can't be that old."

"I'm fifty, Emma. That's practically prehistoric in the eyes of you bright young things."

Emma looked across at the teddy bear, and the photographs, and suddenly it all clicked into place. Gold was comfortable with her now because he could assume the role of caretaker, parent; a role that he obviously had experience in. Granny assumed the same role with everyone naturally, regardless of age or gender, and Emma had never really given it much thought. She considered the way that Gold acted around Ruby, her contemporary in age, and concluded that again, here he seemed to fit in a more fatherly position, or at least a curmudgeonly uncle. Perhaps it was his knowing Ruby so young that had made the translation from strangers to tentative not-quite-friends-yet different with Emma.

She had never pried much into Gold's life, especially that which came prior to his coming to the theatre. He and Belle always seemed a little distant when they were together, in their own little world, and she had not had the courage to ask him directly. None of the other theatre folk would ever share a story that was not their own. She wanted to ask now, but she didn't want to rock the steadiness in their precarious little drifting boat.

"Whose is the bear?" she asked eventually.

"He was my mother's, then he was mine, then he was my Bae's. Now Belle and I share him."

"Bae," Emma repeated. She wanted to know more, but remembered the theatre's penchant for gathering those who had lost family.

"My son," Gold said for clarification. "He's twenty-four now, and head and shoulders taller than I am, but it still feels like only yesterday that he was knee-high to a grasshopper."

Emma breathed a sigh of relief at hearing that the boy – man – was still alive and she wasn't raking up any traumatic memories in that particular respect.

"Where is he now?" she ventured. Losing someone did not always mean death, and she hoped that whilst Bae was not present, he was also not lost.

"China, I think. Or perhaps Mongolia. Somewhere in Asia. He's travelling, having adventures. He's blessed with an infinitesimal courage I've never had. We get postcards now and again." Gold indicated the back of the door, where a world map was tacked, covered in pins and surrounded by picture postcards.

"Are these all the places he's been?" Emma asked, going over to the map.

"Yes. He's been travelling four and a half years now. He comes back a few times a year. I keep hoping he'll settle soon, but…" Gold shrugged and picked a postcard off the door, handing it to Emma. It was of the Great Wall of China. She turned it over to read.

_To Pops, Belle, Little Sis Ruby, Granny, and all at the MR. _

_This wall is HUGE! I'm not joking! Having a great time, Shanghai awaits. Met a lovely girl named Ping who makes better noodles than Mrs Fa. Sorry Mulan, I know I said it was impossible to find better noodles than your mum's… _

_Hope you're all well, _

_Bae x. _

_PS. Don't fight over the kiss. It's for Gracie. _

"Thank you." She handed the card back as she heard Granny calling for her help again, and she left the room with a 'see you later' to Gold. It seemed to be the safest thing to say. Apologies had been made, thanks had been given, and all that was left to do was let water under the bridge. He gave her a small smile in return. Emma pondered as she made her way back down to the kitchen. A corner had most definitely been turned.


	6. Chapter 6

**Note: Cara Mallory** and **Dawn Stephens** are **Maleficent** and **Princess Aurora** respectively; Cara coming from _Carabosse_, the evil fairy in the Sleeping Beauty ballet. I'll admit to a soft spot for Maleficent, I'm sad they didn't use her in the show more.

* * *

**Maison Rouge**

**Chapter Six**

Granny had managed to get a cancellation appointment for Emma two days after their little chat, feeling that it was best to address her situation sooner rather than later. For her own part, Emma was unsure what to expect. She was trying to take care of herself and her unborn child as best she could , but she knew very little about the experiences of pregnancy save for the facts she had tried to memorise on a few rainy afternoons in the bookshop before she left her previous town. It struck her again how woefully underprepared she was for the momentous task ahead of her – not only motherhood but the months leading up to it.

When she had first discovered that she was pregnant, Emma had weighed up her choices quickly, but not without measured thought. She was an adult, even if only by a few months, and she had known that this decision had to be made as an adult. After much deliberation, she had decided that she would keep her child. She would not let what had happened to her happen to her own baby. As the days had gone by, however, Emma had often found herself wondering how she was going to cope once her child was born. As much as she wanted to spare him (or her, but Emma was privately convinced that she was having a boy) the pain of feeling abandoned and unwanted in the care system, a life with her, constantly moving as she did, might not be of any better quality than the other option.

Even the permanence that the theatre had lately brought her was of little consolation. She was still sleeping on Ruby's sofa, and she knew that the time would come, sooner rather than later, when that would simply not be viable any more as her body grew and she became more uncomfortable with it. And once the baby arrived, what then?

It was Mary Margaret who provided her with an answer on the morning of her midwife appointment. She and Sebastian were rehearsing in the bar whilst Emma took stock, and Mary Margaret took her to one side discreetly during a break for Sebastian to tune his sax. It was now no secret amongst the company that Emma was expecting, and thankfully no-one treated her any differently because of it.

"I know you're happy here, and you feel safe and at home in the theatre," the older woman said, "but if it ever gets too crowded or you need time away from it all, David and I have a spare room."

Emma smiled. "Thank you."

No more was said, but no more needed to be said. The two women understood each other perfectly. Presently the moment of calm was interrupted by Ruby bounding in and taking the clipboard from Emma's grasp, and Sebastian blowing a particularly loud and dissonant note on his saxophone that made the hairs on the back of Emma's neck stand on end.

Granny entered the bar behind Ruby and raised her eyebrows at Sebastian, blowing into his instrument for all he was worth and going quite red in the face from it. As he finished and stopped for breath, she casually wandered over to the windows and peered out.

"Congratulations," she said drily. "You've managed to kill that pair of seagulls that have been nesting on the roof. They're sprawled out on the ground, twitching."

Sebastian gave Granny an unimpressed look and continued to play, albeit moderately quieter. The theatre's matriarch gave a grin and came back over to Emma.

"Ready?" she asked. Emma nodded slowly. She was and she wasn't. She was happy about the prospect of possibly seeing her baby for the first time, but she wasn't quite sure about venturing into the outside world, where everything became so horribly real. The theatre was such a self-contained microcosm that it was easy to forget the harsh realities that lurked beyond the heavy double doors. Storybrooke did not boast a maternity unit, so they were going to travel ten miles to the nearest one, on the outskirts of the next town. Whilst it was not too far on a map, the bus journey necessitated two changes, so Granny had cheerfully informed Emma that they would be taking the car.

Since Emma knew that neither Granny nor Ruby could drive, she was rather intrigued as to how this was going to be accomplished.

She followed Granny out of the building – buoyed up by Ruby's enthusiastic wave and request for an ultrasound picture – and they made their way round the back of the theatre, past the stage door to the yard where the bins were kept. Emma was surprised to find Belle and Gold there, but she was even more surprised to find them pulling a worn grey tarpaulin off the most dazzlingly yellow car that she had ever seen.

"Is this your car?" she asked Gold, staring at the beetle, utterly incredulous.

"No," Gold sighed. "I can categorically state that this is absolutely not my car. If it was my car, it would be a BMW or a Cadillac, and it would most definitely not be custard yellow." He unlocked the vehicle and waved the women towards it with a theatrical gesture. "Ladies, your carriage awaits."

"So if it isn't yours, but you are in possession of the keys…" Emma began. "Whose is it?" Although their relationship was less fractured following their discussion in the bedroom a few days prior, Emma still found that it was easier to interact with Gold when Belle or Granny, or both, were there too. They were the only ones who could get beneath his prickly, guarded exterior without effort, and they seemed to be the only ones he was comfortable letting in fully.

"My son," Gold replied, his voice edged with a hint of good-natured parental despair. "Although whatever possessed him to buy a rust bucket this colour is beyond me completely."

They left the drive and Emma found herself retracing the path that the bus had taken on her first evening in Storybrooke. Not that she really recognised the route; it had been pitch black at the time, but it felt strange to be leaving town again and knowing that she would be returning in a few hours' time.

Belle rode shotgun whilst Granny and Emma squeezed into the back. Belle was coming along for the ride to visit the large department store where she could replenish her fabric and haberdashery supplies, and she spent the majority of the journey to the hospital entertaining them with her visions of the various designs that she was hoping to make for Emma, her imaginings becoming more and more outlandish with every mile. They reached the hospital in about half an hour, including dropping Belle off in the town centre. Gold stayed in the car reading the paper (in a toss-up between waiting in a hideous car and waiting in a hospital waiting room, the car was seen as the lesser of two evils), and Granny and Emma entered the maternity unit.

The midwife they were due to see, Cara, was running a little late, so they sat in the waiting room. Granny immediately busied herself with a knitting magazine and started jotting down ideas for bibs and bootees, and Emma was left with her thoughts. She looked around the room; all the other women there had their partners with them, and the sight made Emma's stomach turn itself in knots. Granny seemed to sense her unease and gave one of her hands a squeeze.

"It'll be all right," she whispered. "Don't pay any attention to anyone else. This is about you and your baby, and if anyone else in this room isn't too wrapped up in their own thoughts and fears about their own children to start judging you, then more fool them. You're going to see your baby soon. Focus on that."

The time seemed to drag by whilst they waited, nurses and midwives coming in and calling other women, but never Emma. At last, a woman in a blue uniform with a mass of curly blonde hair pulled back from her face came over to them, exchanging a smile of acknowledgement and recognition with Granny.

"You must be Emma Swan." She held out her hand and Emma shook it. "My name's Cara Mallory, and I'll be your midwife. I'm what's known as a caseloading midwife, so I'll take care of you for your whole pregnancy and post-natal. I'll mainly visit you at home, but obviously some of your appointments will have to be here at the hospital. If you'd like to follow me, why don't we get started?"

Emma and Granny followed Cara out of the waiting room and down the corridor to an examination room that was ready and waiting for them. Emma quite liked the idea of Cara coming to the theatre instead of their having to rely on Gold or anyone else as a chauffeur, but at the same time, her old worries returned and she really didn't want to know what the midwife would think of her sleeping on Ruby's sofa.

"I saw the yellow terror out of the office window just now," Cara said to Granny as she helped Emma onto the bed. "Is Gold still playing taxi driver?"

Granny laughed. "Oh, he likes it really. He'll never admit it but he's got a soft spot for Bae's car."

"Do you think we'll see Belle in here any time soon?" Cara asked with a grin. Granny merely rolled her eyes; it was obviously an ongoing joke between the two women. The midwife resumed her professional demeanour and pushed Emma's sweater up, running her hand over her slight bump and asking questions.

"Ok, Emma," she said after filling in her notes. "You're twelve and a half weeks pregnant, if all the timings are correct. Now, let's take a look and see for ourselves how your baby's getting on in there; this'll also tell us more exactly how far along you are and help us set your due date. You'll have two scans during your pregnancy, the dating scan at ten to thirteen weeks, and the mid-pregnancy scan at twenty weeks to check that everything's progressing as it should."

Emma nodded her understanding, anxious for it to start. She was actually really excited to meet her baby for the first time, far more excited than she had ever imagined herself being when she had discovered that she was pregnant. Cara's good-humoured enthusiasm was infectious.

The midwife smeared some gel over Emma's tummy, but before she could turn on the scanner, there was a rather sheepish-sounding knock on the door. Cara's smile faded into an expression of annoyance.

"Dawn, is that you?"

"Yes," was the reply through the door.

"Where have you been?" Cara asked, exasperated. "Your shift started at seven o'clock this morning!"

"I overslept," Dawn's voice said mournfully. "I'm sorry."

"Again? God help us when you're working nights," Cara muttered. She turned to Emma. "Is it all right if my student comes in?"

"Sure."

"Ok Dawn, come in."

A young woman in pink trainee nurse's scrubs came into the room, looking apologetic.

"Emma, Mrs Lucas, this is Dawn, she's in training and she's shadowing me for the next few months. Dawn, this is Emma, my newest lady. She's twelve weeks along and here for her first scan."

Dawn shook Emma's hand, and then Granny's for good measure. It was obvious to Emma that Dawn was not all that much older than her – Ruby's age, probably – and that she was also slightly scared of her supervisor. Cara, although good-natured on the whole, could evidently become a dragon if the circumstances called for it. She switched on the scanner and ran it carefully over Emma's abdomen.

Emma was slightly disappointed – all she could see was fuzzy grey.

"All right. Dawn," Cara said, "if you want to make yourself useful now that you've finally arrived, would you like to interpret the picture for us please?"

Dawn came over and began pointing out features on the monitor, and as she spoke, the fuzzy grey became more distinct in Emma's mind until she could see the outline of her baby. She stared down at her stomach with a little wonder.

"Here's the head, and the arms, and the legs, and I know that looks like a third arm but it's actually the umbilical cord."

"Definitely twelve weeks of development," Cara said, looking from the screen to her notes and back again. "I'd calculate your due date to be the fourth of June."

The fourth of June. It was next year, and it felt like a lifetime away, but it was only just over six months. Emma was a third of the way through her pregnancy already, and the thought was a sobering one to her.

She focussed again on the hazy picture, putting her worries to the back of her mind and just enjoying the experience, however surreal, of seeing her baby.

"Can you tell if it's a boy or a girl yet?" she asked Dawn. The younger nurse shook her head.

"I can't, it's too early yet. But Cara's had more practice. She might be able to tell you."

Cara looked at the monitor closely.

"It is a bit early yet," she said. "At this stage we've got a fifty-fifty chance of being wrong just like you have. We don't normally say until the twenty week scan, when we can be more certain, and even then we're wrong sometimes. But you're in luck with the way your baby's lying today, we've got a good view of the developing pelvis. If I had to hedge my bets I'd say you were having a boy, but I might be wrong."

"I thought he was a boy," Emma said. Cara smiled.

"Well, they do say that a mother's intuition is normally the best indicator."

"Oh, I don't know," said Granny. "I was convinced that Ruby's Uncle Aaron was going to be a girl. I even got the midwife to check again in case she'd got confused with the cord. That's why we called him Aaron. I didn't have any boys' names ready so I went for the first one in the book."

Cara rolled her eyes.

"Trust you, Mrs Lucas." She returned her attention to Emma, cleaning the gel off her tummy and handing her the ultrasound picture that Dawn had printed off for her. "We'll be able to tell better at your next scan." She looked at the calendar on the wall. "Probably around the fifteenth of January, but I'll be seeing you regularly at the theatre at any rate."

They made a date for Emma's next check-up and spent some time talking about taking care of herself and the baby during pregnancy – which foods to avoid, which foods to eat more of, and whether it was okay to indulge a craving for six tubs of white chocolate marshmallow ice cream. Emma left the hospital feeling the most positive about her pregnancy that she had done since the blue line had first appeared. Cara hadn't asked any awkward questions about the father of her child, and she hadn't pushed the issue when Emma hadn't been able to tell her if there were any genetic disorders in her family that they might need to be aware of. Between them, Granny and the midwife had managed to convince her that she could do this, because it was as if they didn't believe in the existence of another option. They hadn't assured her that she could do it, as the continual repetition of the words would have the opposite effect to the one they were trying to achieve. They just took it as a given. Their faith in her ability to cope and to reach out for the support that was offered to her was simple and absolute. In their eyes, she could not fail, and instead of the expectation pressuring her or making her fearful of the consequences, it bolstered her own self-belief. So her situation was not ideal; there were many logistical issues to be worked out. But she would succeed. Emma clutched her ultrasound picture close to her chest. She wouldn't let them down, any of them.

Belle had returned from town by the time they got back to the little VW, and she and Gold were curled up together on the back seat under a threadbare tartan rug, reading. Granny raised an eyebrow and tapped on the back driver's side window, next to where Gold's head was resting. He started visibly, then rolled the window down on seeing who had interrupted them.

"It's a good job you two have got both hands where I can see them, or I'd be getting worried about what kind of shenanigans you were getting up to under that rug," Granny said drily.

Gold said nothing in reply, and instead addressed Emma.

"Everything go ok?"

"Yep."

"Glad to hear it." He got out of the car and moved to the driver's door; Granny had already commandeered the front passenger seat so Emma climbed into the back next to Belle. After several minutes enthusing over Emma's ultrasound picture, the wardrobe mistress reached over into the boot and began showing Emma her purchases, including yards of grey fabric with a subtle shimmer that she hoped to make into a dress for Emma to replace her borrowed one. It wasn't too gaudy, and yet it was still interesting. Emma liked it, she felt that it suited her more than her current sparkly ensemble.

"Well, yours did begin life as a showgirl's outfit," Belle said with a smile. "But this one will be custom made for you. I'll cut it on the cross with an empire line, put in some soft pleating so that it will grow with you and still look natural."

Emma watched the way that Belle's hands fluttered over the fabric. "Have you really only been dressmaking since you came to the theatre?"

"Yes. Once I start something, I like to be thorough, do it properly by the book." Belle paused. "They call me a bookworm and it's true, reading is my passion, but sometimes it's not enough. I need to do something, feel useful and practical. I used to knit a lot, patchwork mostly. It works off nervous tension wonderfully."

Emma remembered the dozens of knitted patchwork cushions in Belle and Gold's room and wondered; Belle must had had an awful lot of nervous energy to use up in years gone by. She pushed her thoughts away from the mysteries of the past to focus on the present. Belle's scarf had slipped slightly, showing a dark love bite on the side of her neck that Emma was pretty sure had not been there earlier in the day. However innocent they had looked when she and Granny had returned to the car, it was obvious that Belle and Gold had been up to some sort of 'shenanigans' as the older woman put it.

"Erm, Belle…" Emma discreetly indicated the mark and Belle hastily retied the scarf, blushing furiously. She remained a delicate shade of pink until they arrived back at the theatre, muttering something about turtlenecks as she rushed back inside. Granny stayed out to help Gold replace the tarpaulin over the car and shelter it from the rain that had begun, so Emma strolled inside, wondering where she was going to put her picture. Perhaps Ruby would loan her some wall space.

The bar was empty when she arrived in it, and Emma flopped down on one of the sofas to read the leaflets that Cara had given her whilst she waited for lunch.

After about ten minutes absorbed in her literature, Emma's brow furrowed at a strange noise. It sounded like a sniff, but she was still alone in the bar. She waited, listening carefully, and it came again. Someone was in the bar, and their nose was running.

Emma got up quietly, not wanting to alarm the intruder, and she made her way round to the wooden counter itself, which seemed to be the source of the sound. She blinked a couple of times in confusion at what she saw before the puzzle pieces started clicking into place.

"Grace?" she asked in disbelief. "Shouldn't you be in school?"

Grace, who was sitting cross-legged under the bar with her school backpack, froze in the action of reaching for the roll of industrial paper towel kept under the counter in case of spillages. Her expression was such that Emma could clearly see that yes, she was meant to be in school, and no, she really didn't want Emma to tell Jefferson and Alice that she wasn't. The little girl had been crying and looked ready to burst into tears again at any moment.

Emma had never been particularly good with children, possibly owing to the fact that she was only just out of her own childhood, and she had been forced to grow up quickly into an unforgiving adult world. She was only eight years older than Grace as it was. But the little girl whom she had never seen anything but happy and carefree was incredibly upset, and in a few years time, that might be her own child.

Emma tore off a large wad of paper towel and handed it to Grace before carefully settling herself on the floor beneath the bar beside her young friend. "What happened?"

"I got sent home," Grace said. Her voice was small, and she was endeavouring to make herself as physically small as possible too, bringing her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on them.

Emma didn't ask why. She'd been sent home in disgrace many a time during her tumultuous education. She looked sideways at Grace.

"Does it have anything to do with the rather impressive bruise on forming on your right temple?"

Grace managed a miniscule smile.

"The other girl came off worse," she said.

"That's what I like to hear. If you're going to get sent home for fighting, at least make sure you win." She knew that as the responsible adult here, she really shouldn't be encouraging violence, but it was not Emma's place to scold or censure. She wasn't Grace's mother or sister, she was just someone who had been in the same position and could commiserate.

"Rachel was being horrible again," Grace continued, staring up at the spirits in their racks behind the bar. "Saying how we're so poor because we can't afford to live in a proper house, and saying social services are going to take me away." Grace's voice quavered on the last word, and Emma could see the fear, the entirely justified fear, behind the frustration and annoyance. "And she wouldn't shut up, so Ava yanked her pigtails and I head-butted her. And when Mr Fredericks told us to apologise I said I hoped I'd broken her stupid nose, so he sent me to headteacher and she sent me home." Grace huffed. "I hate school. Why can't I stay here and do magic like Dad?"

"Because unfortunately, you're ten," Emma said, matter-of-fact. "And sadly, that's not going to change."

"It will when I turn eleven in March," Grace muttered darkly.

"You'll still have to go to school till you're sixteen though," Emma pointed out. "It's law, and we can't do anything about it. Believe me, I tried enough times."

"I don't need any qualifications!" Grace pleaded. "Granny and Leroy and Mr Gold and Ashley don't have any!"

"I'm fairly certain that's not true," Emma said. She sighed. "Kid, _I_ don't have any qualifications. Actually, that's a lie, I passed maths, geography and IT so I've got three GCSE's to my name. And honestly, you're not going anywhere without them. I hated school too, so I always ran away and never went, and well, you don't want to know what happened after. Running away doesn't solve anything. I should know." She put an arm around Grace. "I am seriously the last person in the world you should be taking advice from, so I'm not going to give you any. I'll just say that I don't want what happened to me to happen to you, or to anyone."

"I don't want to go anywhere with my qualifications though. I just want to stay here. I like it here. Why can't people see that? Ok, so I don't live in an ordinary house, but I live in a one-hundred-and-fifty year old theatre, which is miles better. How many people can say that?"

"Very few, I should imagine," Emma murmured. Grace huffed and folded her arms, going silent for a long time before speaking again, in the same quiet tone she'd had when she first opened up to Emma.

"And I don't want social services to take me away."

Emma's insides twisted, and she couldn't talk any more.

Presently, the door from the apartment opened, and Grace shuffled further back under the bar.

"Gracie." Jefferson's voice came over the top of the counter. "Gracie, I know you're under there. I had a call from Mr Fredericks. He was quite worried about you. You can't just run off; when they say they're sending you home it generally means 'with a parent'."

Grace gave a snort of disbelief at her teacher's concern for her.

"He said he'd never seen you so upset, and your behaviour was most unlike you," Jefferson continued. "Gracie, do you want to tell me what happened?"

"Hasn't Mr Fredericks already told you?" Grace asked sourly.

"I'd rather hear your version, poppet."

"Why would you believe me over him? He's the teacher. I'm just a kid."

"You're not just a kid. You're _my_ kid. Of course I'll believe you. I'd believe you if you told me the sky was pink."

Grace reluctantly clambered out from under the bar to face her father and tell her tale. Uncomfortable at being an eavesdropper, Emma stood too. Jefferson seemed a little surprised to see her, but he covered it well and concentrated fully on his daughter until she reached the end of her version of events.

"Oh Grace…" He held out his arms and, a little awkwardly, lifted her onto the bar. "You're getting too big for this now. Oh poppet, no-one's going to take you away."

"They've tried."

"And if they try again, we'll make them go away again. And as for Rachel Morris, it's clear that she's absolutely bonkers. However, as much as I think she deserves it, as your father I can't condone you breaking her nose. Next time she's mean – although hopefully the nose will make her think twice – just tell Mr Fredericks. He's a nice man, honestly, even if he did send you to the headmistress." Jefferson wrapped his arms around his daughter. "Or tell me and Alice, and we'll come and sort them all out. We'll bring Granny's shotgun if needs be."

Grace gave a weak laugh against her father's shoulder. "If breaking noses is wrong then shooting people definitely is."

"You're right, as usual."

They stayed in their embrace for a long time, and Emma stayed watching them. She liked the picture, the scene presented to her, and she filed it away in her memory for use later, when her own baby was growing up. She had no real experience of unconditional parental love; she was learning her way through proxy and instinct, but she felt that she could do it.

All the same, she couldn't help but wonder at the past lives of her friends and mentors. What had happened to make social services threaten to take Grace away?


End file.
